What shall we do to be Saved?

Robert Green Ingersoll

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Ingersoll’s New Departure — his Lecture entitled:

“What shall we do to be Saved?”

Ladies and Gentlemen: Fear is the dungeon of the mind, and superstition is a dagger with which
hypocrisy assassinates the soul. Courage is liberty. I am in favor of absolute freedom of thought. In the realm of the
mind every one is monarch. Every one is robed, sceptered, and crowned, and every one wears the purple of authority. I
belong to the republic of intellectual liberty, and only those are good citizens of that republic who depend upon
reason and upon persuasion, and only those are traitors who resort to brute force.

Now, I beg of you all to forget just for a few moments that you are Methodists, or Baptists, or Catholics, or
Presbyterians, and let us for an hour or two remember only that we are men and women. And allow me to say “man” and
“woman” are the highest titles that can be bestowed upon humanity. “Man” and “woman.” And let us if possible banish all
fear from the mind. Do not imagine that there is some being in the infinite expanse who is not willing that every man
and woman should think for himself and herself. Do not imagine that there is any being who would give to his children
the holy torch of reason and then damn them for following where the holy light led. Let us have courage.

Priests have invented a crime called “blasphemy,” and behind that crime hypocrisy has crouched for thousands of
years. There is but one blasphemy, and that is injustice. There is but one worship, and that is justice.

You need not fear the anger of a God whom you cannot injure. Rather fear to injure your fellow-men. Do not be afraid
of a crime you cannot commit. Rather be afraid of the one that you may commit.

There was a Jewish gentleman went into a restaurant to get his dinner, and the devil of temptation whispered in his
ear: “Eat some bacon.”

He knew if there was anything in the universe calculated to excite the wrath of the Infinite Being, who made every
shining star, it was to see a gentleman eating bacon. He knew it, and He knew the Infinite Being was looking, and that
he was the Infinite Eaves-dropper of the universe. But his appetite got the better of his conscience, as it often has
with us all, and he ate that bacon. He knew it was wrong. When he went into that restaurant the weather was delightful,
the sky was as blue as June, and when he came out the sky was covered with angry clouds, the lightning leaping from one
to the other, and the earth shaking beneath the voice of the thunder. He went back into that restaurant with a face as
white as milk, and he said to one of the keepers:

“My God, did you ever hear such a fuss about a little piece of bacon?”

As long as we harbor such opinions of Infinity; as long as we imagine the heavens to be filled with such tyranny, so
long the sons of men will be cringing, intellectual cowards. Let us think, and let us honestly express our thought.

Do not imagine for a moment that I think people who disagree with me are bad people. I admit, and I cheerfully
admit, that a very large proportion of mankind and a very large majority, a vast number, are reasonably honest. I
believe that most Christians believe what they teach; that most ministers are endeavoring to make this world better. I
do not pretend to be better than they are. It is an intellectual question. It is a question, first, of intellectual
liberty, and after that, a question to be settled at the bar of human reason. I do not pretend to be better than the
are. Probably I am a good deal worse than many of them, but that is not the question. The question is “Bad as I am,
have I a right to think?” And I think I have, for two reasons.

First, I can’t help it. And secondly, I like it. The whole question is right at a point. If I have not a right to
express my thoughts, who has?

“Oh,” they say, “we will allow you, we will not burn you.”

“All right; why won’t you burn me?”

“Because we think a decent man will allow others to think and express his thought.”

“Then the reason you do not persecute me for my thought is that you believe it would be infamous in you!”

“Yes.”

“And yet you worship a God who will, all you declare, punish me forever.”

The next question then is: Can I commit a sin against God by thinking? If God did not intend I should think, why did
He give me a “thinker.” Now, then, we have got what they call the Christian system of religion, and thousands of people
wonder how I can be wicked enough to attack that system.

There are many good things about it, and I shall never attack anything that I believe to be good! I shall never fear
to attack anything I honestly believe to be wrong. We have, I say, what they call the Christian religion, and, I find,
just in proportion that nations have been religious, just in the proportion they have gone back to barbarism. I find
that Spain, Portugal, Italy are the three worst nations in Europe; I find that the nation nearest infidel is the most
prosperous France. And so I say there can be no danger in the exercise of absolute intellectual freedom. I find among
ourselves the men who think at least as good as those who do not. We have, I say, a Christian system, and that is
founded upon what they are pleased to call system the “New Testament.” Who wrote the New Testament? I don’t know. Who
does know? Nobody!

We have found some fifty-two manuscripts containing portions of the New Testament. Some of those manuscripts leave
out five or six books — many of them. Others more others less. No two of these manuscripts agree. Nobody knows who
wrote these manuscripts. They are all written in Greek; the disciples of Christ knew only Hebrew. Nobody ever saw, so
far as we know, one of the original Hebrew manuscripts. Nobody ever saw anybody who had seen anybody who had heard of
anybody that had seen anybody that had ever seen one of the original Hebrew manuscripts. No doubt the clergy of your
city have told you these facts thousands of times, and they will be obliged to me for having repeated them once more.
These manuscripts are written in what are called capital Greek letters. They are called Uncial characters; and the New
Testament was not divided into chapters and verses, even, until the year of grace 1551. Recollect it.

In the original the manuscripts and gospels are signed by nobody. The epistles are addressed to nobody; and they are
signed by the same person. All the addresses, all the pretended earmarks showing to whom they are written and by whom
they are written are simply interpolations, and everybody who has studied the subject knows it.

It is further admitted that even these manuscripts have not been properly translated, and they have a syndicate now
making a new translation; and I suppose that I cannot tell whether I really believe the Testament or not until I see
that new translation.

You must remember, also, one other thing. Christ never wrote a solitary word of the New Testament — not one word.
There is an account that He once stooped and wrote something in the sand, but that has not been preserved. He never
told anybody to write a word. He never said: “Matthew, remember this. Mark, don’t forget to put that down. Luke, be
sure that in your gospel you have this. John, don’t forget it.” Not one word. And it has always seemed to me that a
Being coming from another world, with a message of infinite importance to mankind, should at least have verified that
message by his own signature.

Why was nothing written? I will tell you. In my judgment they expected the end of the world in a very few days. That
generation was not to pass away until the heavens should be rolled up as a scroll, and until the earth should melt with
fervent heat. That was their belief. They believed that the world was to be destroyed, and that there was to be another
coming, and that the saints were then to govern the world. And they even went so far among the Apostles, as we
frequently do now before election, as to divide out the offices in advance. This Testament was not written for hundreds
of years after the Apostles were dust. These facts lived in the open mouth of credulity. They were in the wastebaskets
of forgetfulness. They depended upon the inaccuracy of legend, and for centuries these doctrines and stories were blown
about by the inconstant winds. And finally, when reduced to writing, some gentleman would write by the side of the
passage his idea of it, and the next copyist would put that in as a part of the text. And, finally, when it was made,
and the Church got in trouble, and wanted a passage to help it out, one was interpolated to order. So that now it is
among the easiest things in the world to pick out at least one hundred interpolations in the Testament. And I will pick
some of them out before I get through.

And let me say here, once for all, that for the man Christ I have infinite respect. Let me say, once for all, that
the place where man has died for man is holy ground; and let me say, once for all, to that great and serene man I
gladly pay the homage of my admiration and my tears. He was a reformer in His day. He was an infidel in His time. He
was regarded as a blasphemer, and His life was destroyed by hypocrites, who have, in all ages, done what they could to
trample freedom out of the human mind. Had I lived at that time I would have been His friend, and should He come again
He would not find a better friend than I will be.

That is for the man. For the theological creation I have a different feeling. If He was, in fact, God, He knew that
there was no such thing as death. He knew that what we call death was but the eternal opening of the golden gates of
everlasting joy; and it took no heroism to face a death that was simply eternal life.

But when a man, when a poor boy sixteen years of age, goes upon the field of battle to keep his flag in heaven, not
knowing but that death ends all — not knowing but that, when the shadows creep over him, the darkness will be eternal —
there is heroism.

And so for the man who, in the darkness, said: “My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?”— for that man I have nothing but
respect, admiration, and love.

A while ago I made up my mind to find out what was necessary for me to do in order to be saved. If I have got a
soul, I want it saved. I do not wish to lose anything that is of value. For thousands of years the world has been
asking that question “What shall we do to be saved?”

Saved from poverty? No. Saved from crime? No. Tyranny? No. But “What shall we do to be saved from the eternal wrath
of the God who made us all?”

If God made us, He will not destroy us. Infinite wisdom never made a poor investment. And upon all the works of an
infinite God, a dividend must finally be declared. The pulpit has cast a shadow over even the cradle. The doctrine of
endless punishment has covered the cheeks of this world with tears. I despise it, and I defy it.

I made up my mind, I say, to see what I had to do in order to save my soul according to the Testament, and thereupon
I read it. I read the gospel, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. But I found that the Church had been deceiving me. I found
that the clergy did not understand their own book. I found that they had been building upon passages that had been
interpolated. I found that they had been building upon passages that were entirely untrue. And I will tell you why I
think so.

The first of these gospels was written by St. Matthew, according to the claim. Of course he never wrote a word of
it. Never saw it. Never heard of it. But, for the purpose of this lecture, I will admit that he wrote it. I will admit
that he was with Christ for three years, that he heard much of His conversation during that time and that he became
impregnated with the doctrines, or dogmas, and the ideas of Jesus Christ.

Now let us see what Matthew says we must do in order to be saved. And I take it that, if this be true, Matthew is as
good an authority as any minister in the world.

The first thing I find upon the subject of salvation is in the fifth chapter of Matthew, and is embraced in what is
commonly known as the sermon on the Mount. It is as follows:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Good!

“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.” Good! Whether they belonged to any church or not; whether
they believed the Bible or not.

“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.” Good!

“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the
children of God. Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake,” (that’s me, little) “for theirs is the
Kingdom of Heaven.”

In the same sermon he says: “Think not that I am come to destroy the law or the prophets. I am not come to destroy,
but to fulfill.” And then he makes use of this remarkable language, almost as applicable today as it was then: “For I
say unto you that except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees ye shall in no
wise enter the kingdom of Heaven.” Good!

In the sixth chapter I find the following, and it comes directly after the prayer known as the Lord’s prayer: “For
if you forgive men their trespasses your Heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if ye forgive not men their
trespasses neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.” I accept the conditions. There is an offer; I accept it.
If you will forgive men that trespass against you, God will forgive your trespasses against Him. I accept, and I never
will ask any God to treat me any better than I treat my fellowmen. There is a square promise. There is a contract. If
you will forgive others, God will forgive you. And it does not say you must believe in the Old Testament, nor be
baptized, nor join the Church, nor keep Sunday. It simply says, if you forgive others God will forgive you; and it must
be true. No God could afford to damn a forgiving man. (A voice: “Will He forgive Democrats?”) Oh, certainly. Let me say
right here that I know lots of Democrats, great, broad, whole-souled, clever men, and I love them. And the only bad
thing about them is that they vote the Democratic ticket. And I know lots of Republicans so mean and narrow that the
only decent thing about them is that they vote the Republican ticket.

Now let me make myself plain upon that subject, perfectly plain. For instance, I hate Presbyterianism, but I know
hundreds of splendid Presbyterians. Understand me. I hate Methodism, and yet I know hundreds of splendid Methodists. I
dislike a certain set of principles called Democracy, and yet I know thousands of Democrats that I respect and like. I
like a certain set of principles — that is, most of them — called Republicanism, and yet I know lots of Republicans
that are a disgrace to those principles.

I do not war against men. I do not war against persons. I war against certain doctrines that I believe to be wrong.
And I give to every other human being every right that I claim for myself. Of course I did not intend today to tell
what we must do in the election for the purpose of being saved.

The next thing that I find is in the seventh chapter and the second verse: “For with what judgment ye judge, ye
shall be judged; and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.” Good! That suits me!

And in the twelfth chapter of Matthew: “For whosoever shall do the will of my Father that is in Heaven, the same is
my brother and sister and mother. For the Son of Man shall come in the glory of His Father with His angels, and then He
shall reward every man according —” To the church he belongs to? No. To the manner in which he was baptized? No.
According to his creed? No. “Then he shall reward every man according to his works.” Good! I subscribe to that
doctrine.

And in the sixteenth chapter: “And Jesus called a little child to Him and stood him in the midst, and said: ‘Verily,
I say unto you, except ye become converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the Kingdom of
Heaven.’” I do not wonder that a reformer in His day that met the Scribes and Pharisees and hypocrites, I do not wonder
that at last He turned to children and said: “Except ye become as little children,” I do not wonder. And yet, see what
children the children of God have been. What an interesting dimpled darling John Calvin was. Think of that prattling
babe known as Jonathan Edwards! Think of the infants that founded the Inquisition, that invented instruments of torture
to tear human flesh. They were the ones who had become as little children.

So I find in the nineteenth chapter: “And behold, one came and said unto Him: ‘Good master, what good thing shall I
do in order to inherit eternal life?’ And He said unto him, ‘why callest thou Me good? There is none good but one, and
that is God, but if thou will enter into eternal life, keep the commandments,’ and he said unto Him, ‘Which?’”

Now, there is a pretty fair issue. Here is a child of God asking God what is necessary for him to do in order to
inherit eternal life. And God says to him: Keep the commandments. And the child said to the Almighty: “Which?” Now if
there ever had been an opportunity given to the Almighty to furnish a gentleman with an inquiring mind with the
necessary information upon that subject, here was the opportunity. He said unto Him, ‘which?’ And Jesus said: “Thou
shalt do no murder; thou shalt not commit adultery; thou shalt not steal; thou shalt not bear false witness; honor thy
father and mother; and, thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” He did not say to him: “You must believe in Me — that
I am the only begotten Son of the living God.” He did not say: “You must be born again.” He did not say: “You must
believe the Bible.” He did not say: “You must remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.” He simply said: “Thou shalt
do no murder. Thou shalt not commit adultery. Thou shalt not steal. Thou shalt not bear false witness. Honor thy father
and thy mother; and, thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” And thereupon the young man, who I think was a little
“fresh,” and probably mistaken, said unto Him: “All these things have I kept from my youth up.” I don’t believe
that.

Now comes in an interpolation. In the old times when the Church got a little scarce for money, they always put in a
passage praising poverty. So they had this young man ask: “What lack I yet?” And Jesus said unto him: “If thou wilt be
perfect, go and sell that thou hast and give it to the poor, and thou shalt have treasures in heaven.” The Church has
always been willing to swap off treasures in heaven for cash down.

And when the next verse was written the Church must have been nearly dead-broke. “And again I say unto you, it is
easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.” Did you
ever know a wealthy disciple to unload on account of that verse?

And then comes another verse, which I believe is an interpolation: “And every one that has forsaken houses, or
brethren or sisters, or father or mother, or wife or children, or lands, for my name’s sake, shall receive an
hundredfold, and shall inherit everlasting life.” Christ never said it. Never. “Whosoever shall forsake father and
mother.” Why He said to this man who asked him “What shall I do to inherit eternal life?” among other things, He said
“Honor thy father and thy mother.” And we turn over the page and He says: “If you will desert your father and your
mother you shall have everlasting life.” It won’t do. If you desert your wife and your little children, or your lands —
the idea of putting a house and lot on equality with wife and children. Think of that! I do not accept the terms. I
will never desert the one I love for the promise of any God.

It is far more important that we shall love our wives than that we shall love God. And I will tell you why you
cannot help Him. You can help her. You can fill her life with the perfume of perpetual joy. It is far more important
that you love your children than that you love Jesus Christ. — And why? If He is God you cannot help Him, but you can
plant a little flower of happiness in every footstep of the child, from the cradle until you die in that child’s arms.
Let me tell you to-day, it is far more important to build a home than to erect a church. The holiest temple beneath the
stars is a home that love has built. And the holiest altar in all the wide world is the fireside around which gather
father and mother and children.

There was a time when people believed that infamy. There was a time when they did desert fathers; and mothers, and
wives and children. St. Augustine says to the devotee: “Fly to the desert, and though your wife put her arms around
your neck, tear her hands away; she is a temptation of the devil. Though your father and mother throw their bodies
athwart your threshold, step over them; and though your children pursue and with weeping eyes beseech you to return,
listen not. It is the temptation of the evil one. Fly to the desert and save your soul.” Think of such a soul being
worth saving. While I live I propose to stand by the folks.

Here there is another condition of salvation. I find it in the 25th chapter: “Then shall the King say unto them on
His right hand, ‘Come, ye blessed of my father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.
For I was a hungered and ye gave Me meat; I was thirsty and ye gave Me drink; I was a stranger and ye took Me in; naked
and ye clothed Me; and I was sick and ye visited Me; and I was in prison, and ye came unto me.” Good! And I tell you
tonight that God will not punish with eternal thirst the man who has put the cup of cold water to the lips of his
neighbor. God will not allow to live in eternal nakedness of pain the man who has clothed others.

For instance, here is a shipwreck, and here is some brave sailor stands aside and allows a woman whom he never saw
before to take his place in the boat, and he stands there, grand and serene as the wide sea, and he goes down. Do you
tell me there is any God who will push the life-boat from the shore of eternal life, when that man wishes to step in?
Do you tell me that God can be unpitying to the pitiful, that He can be unforgiving to the forgiving? I deny it; and
from the aspersions of the pulpit I seek to rescue the reputation of the Deity.

Now, I have read you everything in Matthew on the subject of salvation. That is all there is. Not one word about
believing anything. It is the gospel of deed, the gospel of charity, the gospel of self-denial; and if only that gospel
had been preached, persecution never would have shed one drop of blood. Not one. Now, according to the testimony,
Matthew was well acquainted with Christ. According to the testimony, he had been with Him, and His companion for years,
and if it was necessary to believe anything in order to get to heaven, Matthew should have told us. But he forgot it.
Or he didn’t believe it. Or he never heard of it. You can take your choice.

The next is Mark. Now let us see what he says. And for the purpose of this lecture it is sufficient for me to say
that Mark agrees, substantially, with Matthew, that God will be merciful to the merciful; that He will be kind to the
kind that He will pity the pitying. And it is precisely, or substantially, the same as Matthew until I come to the 16th
verse of the 16th chapter, and then I strike an interpolation, put in by hypocrisy, put in by priests, who longed to
grasp with bloody hands the sceptre of universal authority.

Let me read it to you. And it is the most infamous passage in the Bible. Christ never said it. No sensible man ever
said it. “And He said unto them”— that is, unto His disciples —“Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to every
creature. He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved, and he that believeth not shall be damned.”

Now, I propose to prove to you that that is an interpolation. Now how will I do it? In the first place, not one word
is said about belief in Matthew. In the next place, not one word is said about belief in Mark, until I come to that
verse. And when is that said to have been spoken? According to Mark, it is a part of the last conversation of Jesus
Christ — just before, according to the account, He ascended bodily before their eyes. If there ever was any important
thing happened in this world, that is one of them. If there was any conversation that people would be apt to recollect,
it would be the last conversation with God before He rose through the air and seated Himself upon the throne of the
Infinite. We have in this Testament five accounts of the last conversation happening between Jesus Christ and His
apostles. Matthew gives it. And yet Matthew does not state that in that conversation He said: “Whoso believeth and is
baptized shall be saved, and whoso believeth not shall be damned.” And if He did say those words, they were the most
important that ever fell from His lips. Matthew did not hear it, or did not believe it, or forgot it.

Then I turn to Luke, and he gives an account of this same last conversation, and not one word does he say upon that
subject. Now it is the most important thing, if Christ said it, that He ever said.

Then I turn to John, and he gives an account of the last conversation, but not one solitary word on the subject of
belief or unbelief. Not one solitary word on the subject of damnation. Not one.

Then I turn to the first chapter of the Acts, and there I find an account of the last conversation; and in that
conversation there is not one word upon this subject. Now, I say, that demonstrates that the passage in Mark is an
interpolation.

What other reason have I got? That there is not one particle of sense in it. Why? No man can control his belief. You
hear evidence for and against, and the integrity of the soul stands at the scales and tells which side rises and which
side falls. You cannot believe as you wish. You must believe as you must. And He might as well have said: “Go into all
the world and preach the gospel, and whosoever has red hair shall be saved, and whosoever hath not shall be
damned.”

I have another reason. I am much obliged to the gentleman who interpolated these passages. I am much obliged to him
that he put in some more — two, more. Now hear:

“And these signs shall follow them that believe.” Good.

“In My name shall they cast out devils. They shall speak with new tongues, and they shall take up serpents and if
they drink any deadly thing it shall not hurt them. They shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.”

Bring on your believer! Let him cast out a devil. I do not claim a large one, “just a little one for a cent.” Let
him take up serpents. “And if he drink any deadly thing it shall not hurt him.” Let me mix up a dose for the
theological believer, and if it does not hurt him I’ll join a church. O, but, “they say those things only lasted
through that apostolic age.” Let us see. “Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature. He that
believeth and is baptized shall be saved, but he that believeth not shall be damned. And these signs shall follow them
that believe.”

How long? I think at least until they had gone into all the world. Certainly these signs should follow until all the
world had been visited. And yet if that declaration was in the mouth of Christ, he then knew that one-half of the world
was unknown and that he would be dead 1,492 years before his disciples would know that there was another world. And yet
he said, “Go into all the world and preach the gospel,” and he knew then that it would be 1,492 years before anybody
went. Well, if it was worth while to have signs follow believers in the old world, surely it was worth while to have
signs follow believers in the new world. And the very reason that signs should follow would be to convince the
unbeliever, and there are as many unbelievers now as ever, and the signs are as necessary today as they ever were. I
would like a few myself.

This frightful declaration, “He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved, but he that believeth not shall be
damned,” has filled the world with agony and crime.

Every letter of this passage has been sword and fagot; every word has been dungeon and chain.

That passage made the sword of persecution drip with innocent blood for ten centuries. That passage made the horizon
of a thousand years lurid with the flames of fagots. That passage contradicts the sermon on the mount. That passage
travesties the Lord’s prayer. That passage turns the splendid religion of deed and duty into the superstition of creed
and cruelty. I deny it. It is infamous. Christ never said it! Now I come to Luke, and it is sufficient to say that Luke
substantially agrees with Matthew and with Mark. Substantially agrees, as the evidence is read. I like it.

“Be ye therefore merciful, as your Father also is merciful.” Good!

“Judge not, and ye shall not be judged. Condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned; forgive and ye shall be
forgiven.” Good!

“Give, and it shall be given unto you, good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over.” Good! I
like it.

“For with the same measure that ye mete withal, it shall be measured to you again.”

He agrees substantially with Mark; he agrees substantially with Matthew; and I come at last to the nineteenth
chapter.

“And Zaccheus stood and said unto the Lord, ‘Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor, and if I have
taken anything from any man by false accusation, I restore him four-fold.’ And Jesus said unto him, ‘This day is
salvation come to this house.’”

That is good doctrine. He didn’t ask Zaccheus what he believed. He didn’t ask him, Do you believe in the Bible? Do
you believe in the five points? Have you ever been baptized-sprinkled? Oh! immersed. “Half of my goods I give to the
poor, and if I have taken anything from any man by false accusation, I restore him four-fold.” “And Christ said, ‘This
day is salvation come to this house.’” Good!

I read also in Luke that Christ when upon the cross forgave His murderers, and that is considered the shining gem in
the crown of His mercy — that He forgave His murderers. That He forgave the men who drove the nails in His hands, in
His feet, that plunged a spear in His side; the soldier that in the hour of death offered Him in mockery the bitterness
to drink; that He forgave them all freely, and that yet, although He would forgive them, He will in the nineteenth
century damn to eternal fire an honest man for the expression of his honest thoughts. That won’t do. I find too, in
Luke, an account of two thieves that were crucified at the same time. The other gospels speak of them. One says they
both railed upon Him. Another says nothing about it. In Luke we are told that one did, but one of the thieves looked
and pitied Christ, and Christ said to that thief:

“This day shalt thou meet me in Paradise.”

Why did He say that? Because the thief pitied Him. And God cannot afford to trample beneath the feet of His infinite
wrath the smallest blossom of pity that ever shed its perfume in the human heart!

Who was this thief? To what church did he belong? I don’t know. The fact that he was a thief throws no light on that
question. Who was he? What did he believe? I don’t know. Did he believe in the Old Testament? In the miracles? I don’t
know. Did he believe that Christ was God? I don’t know. Why, then, was the promise made to him that he should meet
Christ in Paradise. Simply because he pitied innocence suffering on the cross.

God cannot afford to damn any man that is capable of pitying anybody.

And now we come to John, and that is where the trouble commences. The other gospels teach that God will be merciful
to the merciful, forgiving to the forgiving, kind to the kind, loving to the loving, just to the just, merciful to the
good.

Now we come to John, and here is another doctrine. And allow me to say that John was not written until centuries
after the others. This, the Church got up:

“And Jesus answered and said unto him: ‘Furthermore I say unto thee that except a man be born again he cannot see
the “Kingdom of God.”’”

“Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit he cannot enter into the Kingdom of God.” Why?

“That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the spirit is spirit. Marvel not that I said
unto thee, ‘ye must be born again.’ That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the spirit is
spirit,”— and He might have added that which is born of water is water.

“Marvel not that I say unto thee, ‘ye must be born again.’” And then the reason is given, and I admit I did not
understand it myself until I read the reason, and will understand it as well as I do; and here it is: “The wind bloweth
where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, and canst not tell whence it cometh and whither it goeth.” So I
find in the book of John the idea of the real presence.

So I find in the book of John, that in order to be saved we must eat of the flesh and we must drink of the blood of
Jesus Christ, and if that gospel is true, the Catholic Church is right. But it is not true. I cannot believe it, and
yet for all that it may be true. But I don’t believe it. Neither do I believe there is any God in the universe who will
damn a man simply for expressing his belief.

“Why,” they say to me, “suppose all this should turn out to be true, and you should come to the day of judgment and
find all these things to be true. What would you do then?” I would walk up like a man, and say, “I was mistaken.”

“And suppose God was about to pass judgment on you, what would you say?” I would say to Him, “Do unto others as you
would that others should do unto you.” Why not?

I am told that I must render good for evil. I am told that if smitten on one cheek I must turn the other. I am told
that I must overcome evil with good. I am told that I must love my enemies; and will it do for this God who tells me,
“Love my enemies,” to say, “I will damn mine.” No, it will not do; it will not do.

In the book of John all this doctrine of regeneration; all this doctrine that it is necessary to believe on the Lord
Jesus Christ; all the doctrine that salvation depends upon belief — in this book of John all these doctrines find their
warrant; nowhere else.

Read these three gospels and then read John, and you will agree with me that the gospels that teach “We must be
kind, we must be merciful, we must be forgiving, and thereupon that God will forgive us,” is true, and then say whether
or no that doctrine is not better than the doctrine that somebody else can be good for you, that somebody else can be
bad for you, and that the only way to get to heaven is to believe something that you do not understand.

Now upon these gospels that I have read the churches rest; and out of those things that I have read they have made
their creeds. And the first Church to make a creed, so far as I know, was the Catholic. I take it that is the first
Church that had any power. That is the Church that has preserved all these miracles for us. That is the Church that
preserved the manuscripts for us. That is the Church whose word we have to take. That Church is the first witness that
Protestantism brought to the bar of history to prove miracles that took place eighteen hundred years ago; and while the
witness is there Protestantism takes pains to say: “You can’t believe one word that witness says, now.”

That Church is the only one that keeps up a constant communication with heaven through the instrumentality of a
large number of decayed saints. That Church is an agent of God on earth. That Church has a person who stands in the
place of Deity; and that Church, according to their doctrine, is infallible. That Church has persecuted to the exact
extent of her power — and always will. In Spain that Church stands erect, and that Church is arrogant. In the United
States that Church crawls. But the object in both countries is the same, and that is the destruction of intellectual
liberty. That Church teaches us that we can make God happy by being miserable ourselves. That Church teaches you that a
nun is holier in the sight of God than a loving mother with a child in her thrilled and thrilling arms. That Church
teaches you that a priest is better than a father. That Church teaches you that celibacy is better than that passion of
love that has made everything of beauty in this world. That Church tells the girl of 16 or 18 years of age, with eyes
like dew and light — that girl with the red of health in the white of her beautiful checks — tells that girl, “Put on
the veil woven of death and night, kneel upon stones, and you will please God.”

I tell you that, by law, no girl should be allowed to take the veil, and renounce the beauties of the world, until
she was at least 25 years of age. Wait until she knows what she wants.

I am opposed to allowing these spider-like priests weaving webs to catch the flies of youth; and there ought to be a
law appointing commissioners to visit such places twice a year, and release every person who expresses a desire to be
released. I don’t believe in keeping penitentiaries for God. No doubt they are honest about it. That is not the
question.

Now this Church, after a few centuries of thought, made a creed, and that creed is the foundation of orthodox
religion. Let me read it to you:

“Whosoever will be saved, before all things it is necessary that he hold the Catholic faith; which faith, except
every one do keep entire and inviolate, without doubt, he shall everlastingly perish.” Now the faith is this: “That we
worship one God in trinity, and trinity in unity.”

Of course you understand how that’s done, and there’s no need of my explaining it. Neither confounding the persons
nor dividing the substance. You see what a predicament that would leave the Deity in if you divided, the substance.

“For one is the person of the Father, another of the Son, and another of the Holy Ghost; but the Godhead of the
Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost is all one “— you know what I mean by Godhead. In glory equal, and in
majesty co-eternal. Such as the Father is, such is the Son, such is the Holy Ghost. The Father is uncreated, the Son
uncreated, the Holy Ghost uncreated. The Father incomprehensible, the Son incomprehensible, the Holy Ghost
incomprehensible.

And that is the reason we know so much about the thing. “The Father is eternal, the Son eternal, the Holy Ghost
eternal,” and yet there are not three eternals, only one eternal, as also there are not three uncreated, nor three
incomprehensibles, only one uncreated, one incomprehensible.

“In like manner, the Father is almighty, the Son almighty, the Holy Ghost almighty.” Yet there are not three
almighties, only one Almighty. So the Father is God, the Son God, the Holy Ghost God, and yet not three Gods; and so
likewise, the Father is Lord, the Son is Lord, the Holy Ghost is Lord, yet there are not three Lords, for as we are
compelled by the Christian truth to acknowledge every person by himself to be God and Lord, so we are all forbidden by
the Catholic religion to say there are three Gods, or three Lords. “The Father is made of no one, not created or
begotten. The Son is from the Father alone, not made, nor created, or begotten. The Holy Ghost is from the Father and
the Son, not made nor begotten, but proceeded —” You know what proceeding is.

“So there is one Father, not three Fathers.” Why should there be three Fathers, and only one Son?

“One Son, and not three Sons; one Holy Ghost, not three Holy Ghosts; and in this Trinity there is nothing before or
afterward, nothing greater or less, but the whole three persons are coeternal with one another, and coequal, so that in
all things the unity is to be worshiped in Trinity, and the Trinity is to be worshiped in unity, and therefore we will
believe.” Those who will be saved must thus think of the Trinity. Furthermore, it is necessary to everlasting salvation
that he also believe rightly the incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ. Now the right of this thing is this: That we
believe and confess that our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is both God and man. He is God of the substance of His
Father begotten before the world was. That was a good while before His mother lived.

“And He is man of the substance of His mother, born in this world, perfect God and perfect man, and the rational
soul in human flesh subsisting equal to the Father according to His Godhead, but less than the Father, according to His
manhood, who being both God and man is not two but one — one not by conversion of God into flesh but by the taking of
the manhood into God.”

You see that it is a great deal easier than the other. “One altogether, not by a confusion of substance, but by
unity of person, for as the rational soul and flesh is one man, so God the man, is one Christ, who suffered for our
salvation, descended into hell, rose again the third day from the dead, ascended into heaven, and He sitteth at the
right hand of God, the Father Almighty, and He shall come to judge the living and the dead.”

In order to be saved it is necessary to believe this. What a blessing, that we do not have to understand it. And in
order to compel the human intellect to get upon its knees, before that infinite absurdity, thousands and millions have
suffered agonies; thousands and millions have perished in dungeons and in fire; and if all the bones of all the victims
of the Catholic Church could be gathered together, a monument higher than all the pyramids would rise in our presence,
and the eyes even of priests would be suffused with tears.

That Church covered Europe with cathedrals and dungeons. That Church robbed men of the jewel of the soul. That
Church had ignorance upon its knees. That Church went into partnership with the tyrants of the throne, and between
these two vultures, the altar and the throne, the heart of man was devoured. Of course I have met, and cheerfully admit
that there is thousands of good Catholics; but Catholicism is contrary to human liberty. Catholicism bases salvation
upon belief. Catholicism teaches man to trample his reason under foot. And for that reason, it is wrong.

Now, the next Church that comes along in the way that I wish to speak of is the Episcopalian. That was founded by
Henry VIII., now in heaven. He cast off Queen Catherine and Catholicism together. And he accepted Episcopalianism and
Annie Boleyn at the same time. That Church, if it had a few more ceremonies, would be Catholic. If it had a few less,
nothing. We have an Episcopalian Church in this country, and it has all the imperfection of a poor relation. It is
always boasting of a rich relative. In England the creed is made by law, the same as we pass statutes here. And when a
gentleman dies in England, in order to determine whether he shall be saved or not, it is necessary for the power of
heaven to read the acts of Parliament. It becomes a question of law, and sometimes a man is damned on a very nice
point. Lost on demurrer.

A few years ago, a gentleman by the name of Seabury, Samuel Seabury, was sent over to England to get some apostolic
succession. We hadn’t a drop in the house. It was necessary for the bishops of the English church to put their hands
upon his head. They refused; there was no act of Parliament justifying — it. He had then to go to the Scotch Bishops;
and, had the Scotch Bishops refused, we never would have had any apostolic succession in the new world. And God would
have been driven out of half the world; and the true church never could have been founded. But the Scotch Bishops put
their hands on his head, and now we have an unbroken succession of heads and hands from St. Paul to the last
bishop.

In this country the Episcopal Church has done some good, and I want to thank that Church. Having, on an average,
less religion than the others, on an average you have done more good to mankind. You preserved some of the humanities.
You did not hate music, you did not absolutely despise painting, and you did not altogether abhor architecture, and you
finally admitted that it was no worse to keep time with your feet than with your hands. And some went so far as to say
that people could play cards, and God would overlook it, or would look the other way. For all these things accept my
thanks.

When I was a boy, the other Churches looked upon dancing as probably the mysterious sin against the Holy Ghost; and
they used to teach that when four boys got in a hay-mow, playing seven-up, that the Eternal God stood whetting the
sword of His eternal wrath waiting to strike them down to the lowest hell. And so that Church has done some good.

After a while, in England, a couple of gentlemen, or a couple of men by the name of Wesley and Whitfield, said: “If
everybody is going to hell, nearly, somebody ought to mention it.” The Episcopal clergy said: “Keep still; don’t tear
your gown.” Wesley and Whitfield said: “This frightful truth ought to be proclaimed from the housetops at every
opportunity, from the highway of every occasion.” They were good, honest men. They believed their doctrine. And they
said: “If there is a hell, and a Niagara of souls pouring over an eternal precipice of ignorance, somebody ought to say
something.” They were right; somebody ought, if such thing was true. Wesley was a believer in the Bible. He believed in
the actual presence of the Almighty. God used to do miracles for him; used to put off a rain several days to give his
meeting a chance; used to cure his horse of lameness; used to cure Mr. Wesley’s headaches.

And Mr. Wesley also believed in the actual existence of the devil. He believed that devils had possession of people.
He talked to the devil when he was in folks, and the devil told him that he was going to leave; and that he was going
into another person; that he would be there at a certain time; and Wesley went to that other person, and there the
devil was, prompt to the minute. He regarded every conversion as an absolute warfare between God and this devil for the
possession of that human soul. Honest, no doubt. Mr. Wesley did not believe in human liberty. Honest, no doubt. Was
opposed to the liberty of the colonies. Honestly so. Mr. Wesley preached a sermon entitled, “The Cause and Cure of
Earthquakes,” in which he took the ground that earthquakes were caused by sin and the only way to stop them was to
believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. No doubt an honest man.

Wesley and Whitfield fell out on the question of predestination. Wesley insisted that God invited everybody to the
feast. Whitfield said He did not invite those He knew would not come. Wesley said He did. Whitfield said: “Well, He
didn’t put plates for them, anyway.” Wesley said He did. So that, when they were in hell, he could show them that there
was a seat left for them. And that Church that they founded is still active. And probably no Church in the world has
done so much preaching for as little money as the Methodists. Whitfield believed in slavery and advocated the slave
trade. And it was of Whitfield that Whittier made the two lines:

He bade the slave ships speed from coast to coast, Fanned by the wings of the Holy Ghost.

We have lately had a meeting of the Methodists, and I find, by their statistics, that they believe they have
converted 130,000 folks in a year. That in order to do this, they have 26,000 preachers, 226,000 Sunday-school
scholars, and about $1,000,000,000 invested in church property. I find, in looking over the history of the world, that
there are 40,000,000 or 50,000,000,000 of people born a year, and if they are saved at the rate of 30,000 a year, about
how long will it take that doctrine to save this world? Good, honest people; they are mistaken.

In old times they were very simple. Churches used to be like barns. They used to have them divided — men on that
side, and women on this. A little barbarous. We have advanced since then, and we now find as a fact, demonstrated by
experience, that a man sitting by the woman he loves can thank God as heartily as though sitting between two men that
he has never been introduced to.

There is another thing these Methodists should remember, and that is, that the Episcopalians were the greatest
enemies they ever had. And they should remember that the Free–Thinkers have always treated them kindly and well.

There is one thing about the Methodist Church in the North that I like. But I find that it is not Methodism that
does that. I find that the Methodist Church in the South is as much opposed to liberty as the Methodist Church North is
in favor of liberty. So it is not Methodism that is in favor of liberty or slavery. They differ a little in their creed
from the rest. They do not believe that God does everything. They believe that He does His part, and that you must do
the rest, and that getting to heaven is a partnership business.

The next church is the Presbyterians — in my judgment the worst of all, as far as creed is concerned. This Church
was founded by John Calvin, a murderer! John Calvin, having power in Geneva, inaugurated human torture. Voltaire
abolished torture in France. The man who abolished torture, if the Christian religion be true, God is now torturing in
hell; and the man who inaugurated torture, is now a glorified angel in heaven. It won’t do.

John Knox started this doctrine in Scotland, and there is this peculiarity about Presbyterianism, it grows best
where the soil is poorest. I read the other day an account of a meeting between John Knox and John Calvin. Imagine a
dialogue between a pestilence and a famine! Imagine a conversation between a block and an ax! As I read their
conversation it seemed to me as though John Knox and John Calvin were made for each other; that they fitted each other
like the upper and lower jaws of a wild beast. They believed happiness was a crime; they looked upon laughter as
blasphemy, and they did all they could to destroy every human feeling, and to fill the mind with the infinite gloom of
predestination and eternal damnation. They taught the doctrine that God had a right to damn us because He made us. That
is just the reason that He has not a right to damn us. There is some dust. Unconscious dust! What right has God to
change that unconscious dust into a human being, when He knows that human being will sin; and He knows that human being
will suffer eternal agony? Why not leave him in the unconscious dust? What right has an infinite God to add to the sum
of human agony? Suppose I knew that I could change that piece of furniture into a living, sentient human being, and I
knew that that being would suffer untold agony forever. If I did it, I would be a fiend. I would leave that being in
the unconscious dust. And yet we are told that we must believe such a doctrine, or we are to be eternally damned! It
won’t do.

In 1839 there was a division in this Church, and they had a lawsuit to see which was the Church of God. And they
tried it by a judge and jury, and the jury decided that the new school was the Church of God, and then they got a new
trial, and the next jury decided that the old school was the Church of God, and that settled it. That Church teaches
that infinite innocence was sacrificed for me! I don’t want it! I don’t wish to go to heaven unless I can settle by the
books, and go there because I ought to go there. I have said, and I say again, I don’t want to be a charity angel. I
have no ambition to become a winged pauper of the skies.

The other day a young gentleman, a Presbyterian, who had just been converted, came to me and gave me a tract and he
told me he was perfectly happy. Ugh! Says I: “Do you think a great many people are going to hell?” “Oh, yes.” “And you
are perfectly happy?” “Well, he didn’t know as he was quite.” “Wouldn’t you be happier if they were all going to
heaven?” “O, yes.” “Well, then you are not perfectly happy?” “No, he didn’t think he was.” Says I: “When you get to
heaven, then you would be perfectly happy?” “Oh, yes.” “Now, when we are only going to hell, you are not quite happy;
but when we are in hell, and you in heaven, then you will be perfectly happy?” You won’t be as decent when you get to
be an angel as you are now, will you? “Well,” he said, “that was not exactly it.” Said I: “Suppose your mother were in
hell, would you be happy in heaven then?” “Well,” he says, “I suppose God would know the best place for mother.” And I
thought to myself, then, if I was a woman, I would like to have five or six boys like that.

It will not do. Heaven is where are those we love, and those who love us. And I wish to go to no world unless I can
be accompanied by those who love me here. Talk about the consolations of this infamous doctrine. The consolations of a
doctrine that makes a father say, “I can be happy with my daughter in hell”; that makes a mother say, “I can be happy
with my generous, brave boy in hell”; that makes a boy say, “I can enjoy the glory of heaven with the woman who bore
me, the woman who would have died for me, in eternal agony.” And they call that tidings of great joy.

I have not time to speak of the Baptists — that Jeremy Taylor said were as much to be rooted out as anything that is
the greatest pest and nuisance on the earth. Nor of the Quakers, the best of all, and abused by all. I can not forget
that George Fox, in the year of grace 1640, was put in the pillory and whipped from town to town, scarred, put in a
dungeon, beaten, trampled upon, and what for? Simply because he preached the doctrine: “Thou shalt not resist evil with
evil. Thou shalt love thy enemies.” Think what the Church must have been that day to scar the flesh of that loving man!
Just think of it! I say I have not time to speak of all these sects. And of the varieties of Presbyterians and
Campbellites. The people who think they must dive in order to go up. There are hundreds and hundreds of these sects,
all founded upon this creed that I read, differing simply in degree. Ah but they say to me: “You are fighting something
that is dead. Nobody believes this, now.” The preachers do not believe what they preach in the pulpit. The people in
the pews do not believe what they hear preached. And they say to me: “You are fighting something that is dead. This is
all a form, we do not believe a solitary creed in it. We sign it and swear that we believe it, but we don’t. And none
of us do. And all the ministers they say in private, admit that they do not believe it, not quite.” I don’t know
whether this is so or not. I take it that they believe what they preach. I take it that when they meet and solemnly
agree to a creed, I take it they are honest and solemnly believe in that creed.

The Evangelical Alliance, made up of all orthodox denominations of the world, met only a few years ago, and here is
their creed: They believe in the divine inspiration, authority, and sufficiency of the Holy Scriptures; the right and
duty of private judgment in the interpretation of Holy Scriptures, but if you interpret wrong you are damned. They
believe in the unity of the Godhead and the trinity of the persons therein. They believe in the utter depravity of
human nature. There can be no more infamous doctrine than that. They look upon a little child as a lump of depravity. I
look upon it as a bud of humanity, that will, under proper circumstances, blossom into rich and glorious life.

Total depravity of human nature! Here is a woman whose husband has been lost at sea; the news comes that he has been
drowned by the ever-hungry waves, and she waits. There is something in her heart that tells her he is alive. And she
waits. And years afterwards as she looks down toward the little gate, she sees him; he has been given back by the sea,
and she rushes to his arms and covers his face with kisses, and with tears. And if that infamous doctrine is true,
every tear is a crime, and every kiss a blasphemy. It won’t do. According to that doctrine, if a man steals and
repents, and takes back the property, the repentance and the taking back of the property are two other crimes if he is
totally depraved: It is an infamy. What else do they believe? “The justification of a sinner by faith alone,” without
works, just faith. Believing something that you don’t understand. Of course God cannot afford to reward a man for
believing anything that is reasonable. God rewards only for believing something that is unreasonable, if you believe
something that you know is not so. What else? They believe in the eternal blessedness of the righteous, and in the
eternal punishment of the wicked. Tidings of great joy! They are so good that they will not associate with
Universalists. They will not associate with Unitarians. They will not associate with scientists. They will only
associate with those who believed that God so loved the world that He made up his mind to damn the most of us. Then
they say to me: “What do you propose? You have torn this down; what do you propose to give in the place of it?” I have
not torn the good down. I have only endeavored to trample out the ignorant, cruel fires of hell. I do not tear away the
passage, “God will be merciful to the merciful.” I do not destroy the promise, “If you will forgive others, God will
forgive you.” I would not for anything blot out the faintest stars that shine in the horizon of human despair, nor in
the horizon of human hope; but I will do what I can to get that infinite shadow out of the heart of man.

“What do you propose to put in place of this?”

Well, in the first place, I propose good fellowship — good friends all around. No matter what we believe, shake
hands and let it go. That is your opinion. This is mine: “Let us be friends.” Science makes friends, religion —
superstition — makes enemies. They say, “Belief is important.” I say no, good actions are important. Judge by deed, not
by creed, good fellowship. We have had too many of these solemn people. Whenever I see an exceedingly solemn man, I
know he is an exceedingly stupid man. No man of any humor ever founded any religion — never. Humor sees both sides,
while reason is the holy light; humor carries the lantern and the man with a keen sense of humor is preserved from the
solemn stupidities of superstition. I like a man who has got good feeling for everybody — good fellowship. One man said
to another:

“Will you take a glass of wine?”

“I don’t drink.”

“Will you smoke a cigar?”

“I don’t smoke.”

“Maybe you will chew something?”

“I don’t chew.”

“Let us eat some hay.”

“I tell you I don’t eat hay.”

“Well, then, good-bye; for you are no company for man or beast.”

I believe in the gospel of cheerfulness, the gospel of good nature, the gospel of good health. Let us pray to our
bodies. Take care of our bodies, and our souls will take care of themselves. Good health! And I believe that the time
will come when the public thought will be so great and grand that it will be looked upon as infamous to perpetuate
disease. I believe the time will come when man will not fill the future with consumption and insanity. I believe the
time will come when we study ourselves, and understand the laws of health, that we will say, “We are under obligation
to put the flags of health in the cheeks of our children.” Even if I got to heaven, and had a harp, I would hate to
look back upon my children and grandchildren, and see them diseased, deformed, crazed, all suffering the penalties of
crimes I had committed.

I, then, believe in the gospel of good health, and I believe in a gospel of good living. You can not make any God
happy by fasting. Let us have good food, and let us have it well cooked — and it is a thousand times better to know how
to cook it than it is to understand any theology in the world. I believe in the gospel of good clothes. I believe in
the gospel of good houses, in the gospel of water and soap. I believe in the gospel of intelligence, in the gospel of
education. The school-house is my cathedral. The universe is my Bible. I believe in that gospel of justice that we must
reap what we sow.

I do not believe in forgiveness. If I rob Mr. Smith and God forgives me, how does that help Smith? If I, by slander,
cover some poor girl with the leprosy of some imputed crime, and she withers away like a blighted flower, and afterward
I get forgiveness, how does that help her? If there is another world we have got to settle. No bankrupt court there.
Pay down. The Christians say, that among the ancient Jews, if you committed a crime you had to kill a sheep, now they
say — “Charge it.” “Put it upon the slate.” It won’t do, for every crime you commit you must answer to yourself and to
the one you injure. And if you have ever clothed another with unhappiness, as with a garment of pain, you will never be
quite as happy as though you hadn’t done that thing. No forgiveness. Eternal, inexorable, everlasting justice. That is
what I believe in. And if it goes hard with me, I will stand it, and I will stick to in logic and I will bear it like a
man.

And I believe, too, in the gospel of liberty, in giving to others what we claim for ourselves. I believe there is
room everywhere for thought, and the more liberty you give away the more you will have. In liberty, extravagance is
economy. Let us be just. Let us be generous to each other.

I believe in the gospel of intelligence. That is the only lever capable of raising mankind. Intelligence must be the
savior of this world. Humanity is the grand religion, and no God can put another in hell in another world who has made
a little heaven in this. God cannot make a man miserable if that man has made somebody else happy. God cannot hate
anybody who is capable of loving anybody.

So I believe in this great gospel of generosity.

“Ah! but,” they say, “it won’t do. You must believe. I say no. My gospel of health will bring life. My gospel of
intelligence, my gospel of good living, my gospel of good-fellowship will cover the world with happy homes. My doctrine
will put carpets upon your floors, pictures upon your walls. My doctrine will put books upon your shelves, ideas in
your minds. My doctrine will rid the world of the abnormal monsters born of the ignorance of superstition. My doctrine
will give us health, wealth, and happiness. That is what I want. That is what I believe in. Give us intelligence. In a
little while a man may find that he cannot steal without robbing himself. He will find that he cannot murder without
assassinating his own joy. He will find that every crime is a mistake. He will find that only that man carries the
cross who does wrong, and that the man who does right the cross turns to wings upon his shoulders that will bear him
upwards forever. He will find that intelligent self-love embraces within its mighty arms all the human race.

“Oh,” but they say to me, “you take away immortality.” I do not. If we are immortal it is a fact in nature, and we
are not indebted to priests for it, nor to Bibles for it, and it cannot be destroyed by unbelief.

As long as we love we will hope to live, and when the one dies that we love, we will say: “Oh, that we could meet
again!” And whether we do or not, it will not be the work of theology. It will be a fact in nature. I would not for my
life destroy one star of human hope; but I want it so that when a poor woman rocks the cradle, and sings a lullaby to
the dimpled darling, that she will not be compelled to believe that, ninety-nine chances in a hundred, she is raising
kindling-wood for hell. One world at a time — that is my doctrine.

It is said in the Testament, “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof” and I say, sufficient unto each world is
the evil thereof. And suppose, after all, that death does end all, next to eternal joy, next to being forever with
those we love and those who have loved us, next to that is to be wrapt in the dreamless drapery of eternal peace.

Next to external life is eternal death. Upon the shadowy shore of death the sea of trouble casts no wave. Eyes that
have been curtained by the everlasting dark will never know again the touch of tears. Lips that have been touched by
eternal silence will never utter another word of grief. Hearts of dust do not break; the dead do not weep. And I had
rather think of those I have loved, and those I have lost, as having returned, as having become a part of the elemental
wealth of the world — I would rather think of them as unconscious dust — I would rather think of them as gurgling in
the stream, floating in the clouds, bursting in the foam of light upon the shores of worlds — I would rather think of
them as the inanimate and eternally unconscious, that to have even a suspicion that their naked souls had been clutched
by an orthodox God.

But for me, I will leave the dead where nature leaves them. And whatever flower of hope springs up in my heart I
will cherish; but I can not believe that there is any being in this universe who has created a human soul for eternal
pain. And I would rather that every God would destroy himself; I would rather that we all should go to eternal chaos,
to black and starless night, that that just one soul should suffer eternal agony. I have made up my mind that if there
is a God, he will be merciful to the merciful. Upon that rock I stand. That he will forgive the forgiving. Upon that
rock I stand. That every man should be true to himself, and that there is no world, no star, in which honesty is a
crime. And upon that rock I stand. The honest man, the good, kind, sweet woman, the happy child, has nothing to fear,
neither in this world, nor the world to come. And upon that rock I stand.

Ingersoll’s Answer to Prof. Swing, Dr. Thomas, and Others

After looking over the replies made to his new lecture, Col. Ingersoll was asked by a Tribune reporter what he
thought of them. He replied as follows:

I think they dodge the point. The real point is this: If salvation by faith is the real doctrine of Christianity, I
asked on Sunday before last, and I still ask, why didn’t Matthew tell it? I still insist that Mark should have
remembered it, and I shall always believe that Luke ought, at least, to have noticed it. I was endeavoring to show that
modern Christianity has for its basis an interpolation. I think I showed it. The only gospel on the orthodox side is
that of John, and that was certainly not written, or did not appear in its present form, until long after the others
were written. I know very well that the Catholic Church claimed during the Dark Ages, and still claims, that references
had been made to the gospels by persons living in the first, second and third centuries; but I believe such manuscripts
were manufactured by the Catholic Church. For many years in Europe there was not one person in 20,000 who could read
and write. During that time the Church had in its keeping the literature of our world. They interpolated as they
pleased. They created. They destroyed. In other words, they did whatever in their opinion was necessary to substantiate
the faith. The gentlemen who saw fit to reply did not answer the question, and I again call upon the clergy to explain
to the people why, if salvation depended upon belief in the Lord Jesus Christ, Matthew did not mention it. Some one has
said that Christ didn’t make known this doctrine of salvation by belief or faith until after His resurrection.
Certainly none of the gospels were written until after His resurrection; and if He made that doctrine known after His
resurrection, and before His ascension, it should have been in Matthew, Mark, and Luke, as well as John.

The replies of the clergy show that they have not investigated the subject; that they are not well acquainted with
the New Testament. In other words, they have not read it except with the regulation theological bias. There is one
thing I wish to correct here. In an editorial in the Tribune it was stated that I had admitted that Christ was beyond
and above Buddha, Zoroaster, Confucius, and others. I didn’t say so. Another point was made against me, and those who
made it seemed to think it was a good one. In my lecture I asked why it was that the Disciples of Christ wrote in
Greek, whereas, in fact, they understood only Hebrew. It is now claimed that Greek was the language of Jerusalem at
that time; that Hebrew had fallen into disuse; that no one understood it except the literati and the highly educated.
If I fell into an error upon this point it was because I relied upon the New Testament. I find in the twenty-first
chapter of the Acts an account of Paul having been mobbed in the city of Jerusalem; that he was protected by a Chief
Captain and some soldiers; that, when upon the stairs of the castle to which he was being taken for protection, he
obtained leave from the Captain to speak unto the people. In the fortieth verse of that chapter I find the
following:

“And when he had given him license, Paul stood on the stairs and beckoned with the hand unto the people; and when
there was made a great silence he spake unto them in the Hebrew tongue, saying —”

And then follows the speech of Paul, wherein he gives an account of his conversion. It seems a little curious to me
that Paul for the purpose of quieting the mob, would speak to that mob in an unknown language. If I were mobbed in the
city of Chicago, and wished to defend myself with an explanation, I certainly would not make that explanation in
Chocktaw, even if I understood that tongue. My present opinion is that I would speak in English; and the reason I would
speak in English is, because that language is generally understood in this city. And so I conclude from the account in
the twenty-first chapter of the Acts that “Hebrew was the language of Jerusalem at that time, or that Paul would not
have addressed the mob in that tongue.”

“Did you read Mr. Courtney’s answer?”

“I read what Mr. Courtney read from others, and think some of his quotations very good; and have no doubt that the
authors will feel complimented by being quoted.”

“But what about there being belief in Matthew?”

“Mr. Courtney says that certain people were cured of diseases on account of faith. Admitting that mumps, measles,
and whooping-cough could be cured in that way, there is not even a suggestion that salvation depended upon a like
faith. I think he can hardly afford to rely upon the miracles of the New Testament to prove his doctrine. There is one
instance in which a miracle was performed by Christ without His knowledge. And I hardly think that even Mr. Courtney
would insist that any faith could have been great enough for that. The fact is, I believe that all these miracles were
ascribed to Christ long after His death, and that Christ never, at any time or place, pretended to have any
supernatural power whatever. Neither do I believe that He claimed any supernatural origin. He claimed simply to be a
man — no less, no more. I don’t believe Mr. Courtney is satisfied with his own reply.”

“And now as to Prof. Swing?”

“Mr. Swing has been out of the orthodox church so long that he seems to have forgotten the reasons for which he left
it. I don’t believe there is an orthodox minister in the city of Chicago who will agree with Mr. Swing that salvation
by faith is no longer preached. Prof. Swing seems to think it of no importance who wrote the Gospel of St. Matthew. In
this I agree with him. Judging from what he said, there is hardly difference enough of opinion between us to justify a
reply on his part. He, however, makes one mistake. I did not in the lecture say one word about tearing churches down. I
have no objection to people building all the churches they wish. While I admit that it is a pretty sight to see
children on a morning in June going through the fields to the country church, I still insist that the beauty of that
sight doesn’t answer the question how it is that Matthew forgot to say anything about salvation through Christ. Prof.
Swing is a man of poetic temperament; but this is not a poetic question.”

“How did the card of Dr. Thomas strike you?”

“I think the reply of Dr. Thomas in the best possible spirit. I regard him to day as the best intellect in the
Methodist denomination. He seems to have what is generally understood as a Christian spirit. He has always treated me
with perfect fairness, and I should have said long ago many grateful things, had I not feared I might hurt with his own
people. He seems to be by nature a perfectly fair man; and I know of no man in the United States for whom I have a
profounder respect. Of course I don’t agree with Mr. Thomas. I think in many things he is mistaken. But I believe him
to be perfectly sincere. There is one trouble about him — he is growing; and this fact will no doubt give great trouble
to many of his brethren. Certain Methodist hazelbrush feel a little uneasy in the shadow of his oak.”

“Are you going to make a formal reply to their sermons.”

“Not unless something better is done than has been. Of course I don’t know what another Sabbath may bring forth. I
am waiting. But of one thing I feel perfectly assured; that no man in the United States, or in the world, can account
for the fact, if we are to be saved only by faith in Christ, that Matthew forgot it, that Luke said nothing about it,
and that Mark never mentioned it except in two passages written by another person. Until that is answered, as one
grave-digger says to the other in “Hamlet,” I shall say: ‘Ay, tell me that and unyoke.’ In the meantime, I wish to keep
on the best terms with all parties concerned. I cannot see why my forgiving spirit fails to gain their sincere
praise.”

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